


The Light in Me Will Guide You Home

by libraryseraph



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22198801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/libraryseraph/pseuds/libraryseraph
Summary: After Theon's pardon, Asha helps him start picking up the pieces. Side story to Safe Anchorage, set before Theon's PoV in chapter one
Relationships: Asha Greyjoy & Theon Greyjoy
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	The Light in Me Will Guide You Home

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This fic contains discussion of the results of torture, including oblique allusions to genital mutliation. Beta'd by Lanwan on Dreamwidth/redmorpho on Ao3

Theon heard heavy, booted feet outside the door to his cell, and pushed himself up. He would not go to his death lying down. He could do that, at least. When the gaoler opened the door for King Stannis, Theon pulled his lips back from his teeth in the unfamiliar movement of a smile.   
“Your Grace. Come to take my head?”   
Stannis’ face collapsed into an even deeper frown. “There was a raven from White Harbour today. The Manderlies have found Rickon Stark, alive and well. Your sister has lobbied for a stay of execution. I am… willing to grant it.”   
Theon’s knees buckled. “Your grace--?”   
Stannis gestured to one of the guards. “Unchain him, and take him to his sister.”  
Theon barely even flinched when he was grabbed, none too gently, by one of the guards. His head was spinning, and all he could do was stare after Stannis and gape like a fish. 

Theon stumbled across the threshold to Asha’s rooms. “Asha, what--?”   
Asha grabbed him before he could finish, and embraced him. She was warm, and solid, and she didn’t seem bothered by his smell. Theon let his legs give out, and sank into her arms.   
“I’ve got you, baby brother. I’ve got you.”   
Theon rested his head on Asha’s chest. “What’s happening?” he mumbled.   
“The Stark boy was found alive, you heard that, right?” Theon nodded. “Well, I told Stannis about the Kingsmoot, and the Latecomer, and I suppose he decided you were worth more alive than dead. As for what’s happening now, I’m going to get you cleaned up.” Asha released him, and gently pushed him down onto a chair in front of the fire. Theon closed his eyes, letting the warmth sink into his bones. He hadn’t been so warm in so long, and he tried to focus on that, rather than think about anything else. The thought of living, of having to return to the Islands like this, was more frightening than the idea of dying. He heard something clanging and water splashing, and opened his eyes. Asha was standing by a tub filled with soapy water.   
“Come on.” She gestured at the tub. “It’s nice and warm.”   
Theon was gripped by a new, more immediate fear.   
“You can go,” Theon said, staring at the floor between his feet. There was a deep crack in one of the flags, and he focused on that. “I can clean myself. You don’t have to see it.”  
“Theon. I’m not some fainting maid. There’s nothing you can show me that can disgust me.”   
Theon wanted to believe her, but he remembered the look on her face when she had first seen him. She had been horrified, no matter how much she had tried to hide it.   
Asha must have sensed his hesitation, because she reached for him. “Would you like me to do it?”  
Theon flinched away. “I’ll do it. I can do it.” He reached for the hem of his tunic, and pulled it up and over his head. He heard Asha’s intake of breath at the sight of him, at the whip scars across his back. He turned, showing her the places where skin had been flayed off his chest and sides.  
“It gets worse,” he warned her, and pulled his breeches down. Theon didn’t let herself look at Asha’s face, but he heard the choked sob she made at the sight of the twisted mess of scarring between his legs.   
“Oh, Theon…” Asha’s voice was choked, and when Theon dared to look at her, there were tears shining in her eyes.   
Theon covered his face, as he sank into the tub. Disgust would have been better. Even pity would have been better. Those were things he had gotten used to. He could understand them.   
“Do you want me to wash your back?”   
Theon nodded. That was easier to think about than anything else. He jumped at the first touch of Asha’s hands on him.  
“I’m not going to hurt you, Theon.”  
Theon grabbed a rag off the side of the tub, and wiped clumsily at his face, to hide his tears. Asha was working the rag over his back with shocking gentleness. Being hurt would have been easier. He rubbed harder at his face, and practically felt the filth slough off. It was surprisingly satisfying, and he began to feel a little better.   
“I used to dream of this,” he heard himself say. “I used to hope that you’d come save me somehow.” He stared as the surface of the water, seeing it go grey and cloudy. “That was before I stopped hoping for anything at all.”  
Asha stopped washing, and reached one hand out to squeeze his shoulder. “I wish I had.”   
Theon broke then, sobbing openly. Asha dropped the rag and pulled him as close as she could, pressing his forehead to hers.   
“I’m here, Theon,” she whispered, “I’m here.”   
Theon reached one mangled hand and grasped her desperately. Asha was so strong and solid compared to him. He was weak, thin and starved. _I must feel like nothing to her_ , Theon thought as he cried. Asha let him cry, and then reached under his chin to tilt his head up.   
“We should get you cleaned up before the water gets too cold.”  
Theon nodded, and leaned forwards so she could finish washing his back. Asha ran her hand over his matted hair and sighed.   
“This needs to be cut, Theon.”   
Theon stiffened. “Can—can you just wash it?” He sounded foolish and snivelling, like a child, and hated himself for it.   
“It’s too dirty to wash. I’ll just take the worst mats out,” said Asha, lifting a clump of his hair.   
“Please.” Theon swallowed. “Do it quickly.”   
“I will.” Asha cut out the clump she was holding, dropping it next to the tub. Theon stared at the islands his knees made in the water, as Asha kept cutting his hair. When she was done, there was a small pile of dull, white, filthy hair next to the tub.  
“That should be easier to wash now.”   
Theon nodded. “You—you can wash it,” he said, tentatively, hoping he hadn’t overstretched.   
Asha ran a hand through his ragged hair. “Of course.” She began to rub the thick lather into his hair, her fingers pressing securely into his scalp. Theon pushed into her touch before he could stop himself, closing his eyes and pressing back.   
Asha let out a sad chuckle. “Lean forwards, and keep your eyes closed.”  
Theon did as he was told, and Asha dumped a bucket of warm water over his head, rinsing the soap out. He opened his eyes, blinking water out of them, and saw clean white hair hanging in his face. Asha took a comb, and began to work it through his hair. Theon saw lice falling from the comb, to drown in the water, and shuddered. He didn’t think there was anything left to disgust him, but the world kept turning up new ways to remind him how vile he was.   
“We need to change the water.”  
Theon looked at the water, which was dark with the filth he had shed into it, and nodded. He huddled in a tiny ball by the fire while Asha put fresh water in the tub. This time, he didn’t need to be cleaned as much, so he floated in the water. The water was warmer than it should have been, but it brought back a sudden memory of being a child, floating in the cold water around the Iron Islands. He ducked his head under the water, partially to wash his hair, but mostly to keep Asha from seeing his tears.   
Asha helped him rise from the tub, and handed him a cloth to dry himself with. The clothes waiting for him were plain, obviously taken from the army’s stores; he could see faint outlines where the fiery heart had been cut away. They were far too big for him, but they were warm, and the feeling of the clean fabric against his skin made Theon want to cry.   
Asha squeezed his shoulder. “Is that good?”   
Theon nodded, too overcome to speak. The bath hadn’t fixed his teeth or his fingers or any other thing, but just not being filthy anymore was such a blessing.   
“Here.” Asha guided him to the table, and put a bowl in front of him. Curls of steam rose off the surface of the stew in it, and Theon stared at Asha in shock.   
“Is—is this for me?”   
“Yes, it’s for you.”   
Theon fell on it eagerly, not even slowing down to taste it properly. It was warm and hearty and filling, and soft enough to not irritate his teeth. He was only halfway through the bowl when his stomach began to protest.   
“Is that enough?”  
Theon nodded, holding his hand to his mouth. He leaned back in his chair, resting one hand on his full belly. “Thank you, Asha.”   
Asha leaned across the table and took his hand. “You’re welcome.”  
“Have you heard about Lady Arya?” It hurt to say the name. He had told Jeyne it would be better to use it, but it wasn’t, it was still the wrong name.   
Asha shrugged. “Not much. I think they’ll be sending her to the Wall when they can. Her brother is there, and I don’t think she wants to be here much longer.”   
Theon nodded. He wondered what Jon Snow would do, when he found Jeyne in Arya’s place. Snow could curse Theon for a turncloak twice over as much as he wanted, he decided, as long as Jeyne was safe. 

Theon lay on the bed, and prodded at it cautiously. The straw mattress was thin and old, but it was too soft. Theon wondered if he could wait until Asha fell asleep, and sneak onto the floor. He was used to the floor, and he had so much already, he didn’t need this other thing. As if she had heard his thoughts, Asha flung one arm over him protectively. Theon lay there next to her, and eventually fell asleep. 

He screamed. Fear boiled through his veins, and he flung his arms up to protect himself.   
“Theon! Theon, what’s wrong?”   
Theon sobbed as he heard Asha’s voice. He couldn’t tell her, couldn’t sort out all the tangled threads of his nightmare from the rest of his mind.   
“Shhhhh.” Asha gathered him into her warm arms, guided his head to rest on her chest. “I’m here, Theon. You’re safe, it’s over.”  
That just made Theon cry harder. It was never over. It would never be over, even if by some miracle his scars filled in and his missing pieces regrew. The things that had been done to his mind, to his soul, would never be fixed. Theon kept crying, while Asha cradled him like a child.   
“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “I’m so sorry. You shouldn’t have bothered with me. I’m sorry.”  
“Don’t say that,” said Asha, smoothing his hair.   
“I should be dead. After everything I’ve done, I should be dead.” Theon sobbed. “I’ve done such… horrible things.”   
“I know that.” Asha’s voice was blunt and straightforward. “Do you know what else I know?”   
Theon shook his head.   
“You’re my little brother, Theon, and I care about you.”   
“I don’t deserve this—”  
“And you didn’t deserve the past year, either.” Asha guided him back down to the mattress. “Go to sleep.”  
Theon curled into her. A pleasant, warm, heaviness was spreading through his limbs as the energy of his panic faded, and he slept. 

When Theon woke, Asha was still there. He reached out one shaking hand, and touched her face. She opened her eyes and smiled at him.  
“You’re here…”   
“Aye, I am.” She smirked. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”   
It was a stupid jest, but Theon laughed anyways, and then laughed again at how good it felt. He clambered out of bed, and began to dress. His hands shook a little as he tried to lace his tunic up.   
“Do you need some help?”   
“No.” The laces slipped from his ruined hands again. “Yes.”   
Theon averted his gaze as Asha laced his tunic up, hoping she didn’t notice the flush of shame he knew was spreading across his cheeks. He wanted to be stronger, but here he was, needing to be dressed like a child. Asha leaned in, cupping the back of his head to press her forehead to his.   
“It’s fine,” she whispered. Theon nodded, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat.   
“I’m afraid,” Theon made himself say, “I don’t know how to… to live anymore. I know it’s pathetic and weak, but…” He trailed off.   
“I’ll help you, Theon,” Asha said. She was warm, and solid, and steady, and for the first time in years, Theon felt a sense of peace settle over him.


End file.
